Being the Dominant One
by J the Drafter
Summary: Haruhi knows the smell of her hair, the sound of her pleading, the feel of her thrashing body and the look in her terrified eyes.  Intimacy is just an inevitable byproduct of Haruhi and Mikuru's interactions. Haruhi reflects.


Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya is the creation of Nagaru Tanigawa.

* * *

Her bright red hair smells like strawberries, fittingly enough. She likes fruit-scented conditioners, and she uses strawberry-scented more often than most. You don't have to ask to know that strawberry is her favorite.

(Mikuru, naked, tears streaming down her face, covers her chest and her groin as she pulls away from your touch.)

_Once, you ask Mikuru-chan what brand of conditioner she uses. 'That's interesting,' you think to her hesitant reply. 'I'll have to try that brand sometime. I've never heard of it before.'_

She feels soft. Her body is small, plump and full of movement. You can feel her helplessness as she tries to resist you, and you can feel your strength in the ease with which you restrain her. You can see her tears as you hold her down. The aroma of her unscented soap makes an interesting contrast to the smell of her slowly accumulating sweat.

(You pose Mikuru this way and that, trying to find the best angles to take your photos while she wears the maid outfit. The smile you forced her to make looks strained from fatigue.)

_You lean your head against Mikuru-chan's arm as you look at the sky. Mikuru tenses at the contact, but of course she doesn't pull away, and once she realizes you aren't going to do anything more she relaxes a little._

She looks submissive. She is constantly watching you, as though she fears you will attack her at any moment. Her eyes widen in dismay as you cheerfully tell her your plans. She knows how helpless she is, knows that she no matter how much she protests, she can do nothing to stop you. She looks panicked as she backs away from you, and then grows frantic as you grab her arms and push her to the floor, where you climb on top of her. Her cries have always been a little too shrill but there is something gratifying about her soft pleading, and the watery look in her eyes is incredibly pleasing.

(Mikuru, her face a mixture of self-disgust and unwanted, undeniable pleasure, fingers the brim of her cowgirl hat.)

"_Miss Suzumiya!" Mikuru waves tentatively to you as you walk to the table where everyone else is already gathered._

She sounds desperate as you close in on her. She shouts loudly and whimpers softly, curling away from you.

She nearly always sounds unwilling. ("N-no, I don't want to!")

She frequently sounds dismayed. ("You have _six_ shopping bags?")

She often sounds resigned. ("Um." Pause. "Kyon said he had to leave early today, Suzumiya-san." A near-whisper.)

She sometimes sounds fearful. ("Please don't make me do this, Miss Suzumiya!")

She occasionally sounds curious. ("What costume did you bring for me this time?")

In rare moments, and much to your surprise, she even sounds grateful. ("Oh thank you! I'm about to collapse!")

(Standing in the bunny suit, blushing and tearing up, Mikuru desperately folds her arms over the exposed portions of her chest. You pull her arms away from such a silly position and impatiently drag her behind you.)

"_That necklace looks good on you, Mikuru-chan!" You give two thumbs up in her direction. She gives you a slow, hesitant smile, which makes you grin at how cute she looks right then._

She is Mikuru Asahina. You know her intimately. Her red hair waving as she walks brings memories of the sharp smell of the lemon shampoo she chose to wear yesterday in favor of the usual strawberry. The sight of her small hands gripping the tea tray reminds you of the nervous look in her eyes as you pinned her wrists, and how she struggled helplessly in your grasp as you caught hold of her. When she smoothes the apron of her maid outfit, you think of her hands guiltily exploring the secretary outfit you recently bought her.

Her gym clothes bring you the image of her panting with relief and exhaustion in her real clothes after you finally got bored. Her excited yell at something she sees is so evocative of the way she screams as you tear at her clothes that you almost feel her squirming in your arms for a second. The frightened stare she gives you when you call her name is no different than the look in her eyes when you show her a shopping bag and let her know it's time to play. She is Mikuru Asahina, and she belongs to you.


End file.
